


Death of the Author

by tiredapocalypse



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Breaking the Fourth Wall, Death and blood mentions (but not explicit or many it's mostly the first chapter), Earth C (Homestuck), Hal comes back from the 'dead' to prevent ult!dirk from happening, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, Sitcom AU, The Homestuck Epilogues, The Homestuck Epilogues: Meat, or are they
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2020-12-09 01:11:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20986346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiredapocalypse/pseuds/tiredapocalypse
Summary: When Dirk moves into his new apartment to start a new life, he thinks things are finally looking up for him. Unfortunately, an unexpected guest makes himself at home as his new vacuuming device and sets to ruin his life.





	1. Dirk: Get cursed into eternal doom

**Author's Note:**

> Sitcom AU where Hal is (somehow) in Dirk's roomba and is the only thing keeping Dirk from becoming his ultimate self by inconveniencing him.
> 
> (Warning: this first chapter has blood and death in it, but it's not going to be common for the rest of the story)

Your breath is faltering and your vision is getting hazy. Around you, the world spins in a blur of different colours, red being the most prominent, but eventually it stops. You clutch your head but immediately remove your hands when you feel the blood coming off a fresh wound.

That's weird. You don't remember suffering any damage there or anywhere that wasn't being protruded by a sword currently. Speaking of, you should take care of that before anything, lest you perish.

Groaning, you try to pick yourself up, before being brought back down to your knees thanks to your decreasing strength. A sharp pain emerges from your chest and you clutch it, letting out a curse through gritted teeth. Your hand is now double bloodied and you congratulate yourself for letting the shit fly off the metaphorical handle. 

A pair of vacant red eyes in your far left seem to agree that maybe you might have let the situation out of control. Faltering pink ones, with their light fading away, tell you that yeah, you pretty much fucked up. And finally, a pair of purple eyes, with no emotion evident (not that they could anyway, being robotic and all) seem to bitterly reply that no, you did an absolutely wonderful job, having everyone die was such an extraordinary idea.

You tear your gaze away from them. You don't need her snarkiness right now, even if she's technically dead and you're the one imagining emotions in dead people's eyes.

Groaning, you try to get up again. This time you're slightly successful and manage to walk long enough to grab onto something, before your legs give out under you again. You have no idea what you just grabbed but it feels cold against your skin. It might be metal, you think, but your thoughts don't go any further because an overwhelming stench of blood fills your nose. You immediately feel nauseous. Your vision becomes clear for just a moment, enough for you to make out the handle of a familiar katana that most certainly didn't belong to you (yours was laying in the other side of the room, in a pool of jade colored blood). You try not to think of the events that lead to a bloodied katana sticking out of the floor.

Wow, you totally messed up, huh? This has gone so astray from the plan not even you can find a solution out of it. I mean, you don't remember much right now, with your life being on the line and all, but mass murder was certainly not planned. The very sharp and awesome weapon going through your body was also an unwelcome last minute addition to the craptastic party that the last hour had been. Maybe you should take care of it.

"Shut up. I know that," you reply, to no one in particular. You manage to stand up once again and make your way out the door, but not before glancing back at the room.

That was your first mistake, is what you would have thought if you remembered any of this later (or if you even existed for that matter). The bodies littered around the room only serve to remind of how you lost control and didn't predict this would happen, how you miserably failed your goals, how you absolutely fucked it up beyond salvation. You stare at the pink eyes (now empty) again, but not even they give you any guidance or consolation. Not that you deserved any, you think. You wouldn't blame them for hating you, after all, that's why you're all here and why this even happened in the first place.

Your mind immediately wanders off to think about all the little flaws of your unbeatable plan, momentarily forgetting the sword impaling you (seriously dude, you should get that checked out). You were expecting them to come after you, of course, you made sure they would, after all. You were most definitely expecting a fight and maybe one or two casualties but it wasn't anything you couldn't make go along with your wishes. That happens when you have control over the course of action.

However, along the way something changed. Your travelling companions had felt it too but also couldn't figure out what it was. It felt as if someone was trying to tear through the narrative, pull at its seams and try to force a new one through it. Whoever that was, none of you could tell. What you could tell was that somehow they managed to convince you, YOU of all people, to ignore that threat and go through your plan blissfully unaware of any changes in the story. By the time you noticed it, you were being invaded, but instead of convincing your intruders to play along with you, you were met with a deadly chainsaw to your face.

Speaking of mortal weapons-

"I got it!" you say, although you're not sure who that reply was meant for. Probably side effects from blood loss, which is something you should already know would happen when you have been fatally injured like that. And I know that you already knew that, although you don't even know who I am. Or maybe you do, but the aforementioned blood loss made you forget who I was.

A shame truly. Who else knows you this well? Who else is so familiarised with the depths of your mind that they could solve it like it was a ten piece puzzle intended for a two year old (or maybe not, the pieces to age ratio is something I have yet to calculate). Anyone else would need years to even try to begin understanding whatever the fuck is going on inside you.

And maybe that is the exact same reason why you failed. You were expecting to have absolute control, to know exactly what would happen and how, but didn't take into account any outside interference. Not that I blame you. Nobody was actually expecting me to be the key to solving this timeline. According to my sources, they travelled through various scenarios before settling in one where my presence was enough to stop you. Not that the situation, or vessel if I might add, is ideal but it'll have to do. 

Enough of this though. You have work to do.

Limping slightly, you finally reach your room. Ignoring the mess and strewn objects, you make your way to another robot, this time with dark blue eyes. You momentarily stare at it and the goofy smile it has (you don't know what possessed you to add that stupid smile but _ someone _ had insisted on it, to make things livelier). It feels like it's mocking you, basking in your misery as revenge for what you've done (although that would be wildly out of character). 

You shake your head before pressing a few buttons, your motions slightly delayed now, but still with a mechanical tone to them, almost as if you practiced this moment over and over again.

A soft blue light emerges from the robot as you sink to your knees, your role finally complete. 

Sweet dreams, Timaeus.

Fin

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Thank you for watching 'The Homestuck Epilogues?' Here are some of our suggestions, based in your history:

(Please select <strike> the only </strike> one option)

Death of the Author - A young adult moves happily into a new apartment, but his joy is short lived when a friend's gift seems to be set to ruin his life.

The Witch and the Seer- Two girls attempt to unite a group of gods to save their universe, but nobody seems to have a decent plan for now. Will they manage to complete their goals? And most importantly, will romance bloom between them?

A Knight's Plight- A two episodes only series with some heavy topics, about two knights in love. Sadly, as the title suggests, their lives are filled with trouble, but maybe together they can work to make life a little better.

  
Homestuck- A fan's favourite. The show is about a-

\--------------

**Death of the Author - A young adult moves happily into a new apartment, but his joy is short lived when a friend's gift seems to be set to ruin his life.**

Playing in

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[Theme song]

Your name is Dirk Strider and you have just fucked up beyond salvation. You stare at your hands, blood coming out of a fresh cut before marching over to your kitchen's sink, careful to not step over the broken pieces of a limited edition SBAHJ figurine Dave had gifted you.

Damn, you actually kinda liked it. It had been a joke gift to celebrate you moving out and your brother claimed it was a necessary part of any household. Guess your apartment's never going to get that sweet upgrade (maybe you could ask Roxy to make a new one).

You finish washing away the blood and wrapping up your wound, and move on to gather the broken figurine. It sure would be sweet to have an automatic vacuum cleaner or something like that to clean this up. Wait, can it even vacuum shards? They would probably damage it.

You're pulled out of your thoughts by the doorbell ringing. Weird, you weren't expecting anyone and the people you knew didn't just show up unannounced.

… Well, most of them didn't show up unannounced…

… Ok, that's a lie. Almost all of them like to just drop by like that. It's probably one of your friends.

And to nobody's surprise, it turns out to be true! A pair of mischievous pink eyes stare at you through heart shaped sunglasses when you finally open the front door. Roxy Lalonde stands in front of you, rocking back on forth on their feet, hands behind their back. They're grinning widely at you and it's not long till you find yourself smiling back, thanks to their contagious happiness. Roxy tends to have that effect on people.

"Guess what," they exclaim. You momentarily notice a box behind their back, but Roxy quickly hides it from view.

"What?"

Roxy extends their arms towards you, shoving the box in your face. "I have come bearing gifts!"

You move away from the offending cardboard to tell them to stop wasting money on gifts for you. You know that all of you are basically rich but you still feel bad for making your friends waste money and time on you.

Roxy gently kicks your shin, silently telling you to shut the fuck up. You roll your eyes behind your shades in amusement and reluctantly take the box, finally seeing what Roxy had gotten you.

The picture of a roomba stares back at you. That… is not the kind of thing you would have thought Roxy would give you- after all, their last gift had been a gigantic lava lamp- but it's kinda thoughtful and useful, you guess.

You thank them but they just shrug it off and tell you it's nothing.

"I know how you Striders get with house keeping, so I thought I would get you something that can do at least a small thing for ya."

"Thanks, Rox- Wait, what do you mean 'how we get with house keeping?"

Roxy eyes you skeptically before pointing at the array of boxes behind you. You immediately move to hide their view of your living room. Roxy snorts.

"I rest my case."

"As if Calliope and Kanaya aren't the sole reasons the Lalonde households are pristine. Don't hide the truth from me, Roxy, I have sources."

"Oh, really? And what are those?"

"Calliope and Jane. Your significant other and best friend have betrayed you in the most cruel of ways. You know I hate being the bearer of bad news but sorry, Roxy. It's the cold, harsh truth."

Roxy dramatically gasps and brings a hand to their heart, "Oh no! How do I go on now? The betrayal is too much! I'm gonna have to move to a new home, where I'll have loads of boxes piling up because my lazy and proud ass didn't want to ask for help with those."

It's your turn to gently kick them so they shut up. Roxy bursts out laughing, while you chuckle. You motion with your head towards the inside of your abode to ask them if they want to come in, but they decline. Callie and them had to get ready for dinner with Rose and Kanaya. You nod in understanding before bidding goodbye, entering your apartment and closing the door behind you.

You put the box down on the ground and contemplate opening it. Around you, the mess that was your living room begs you to stop procrastinating, but your monkey instincts instruct you to open the shiny new gift. And so you do.

However, much to your confusion, the roomba doesn't look like the picture advertised. Instead of plain black, it has a few red details that started glowing when you managed to turn it on. The roomba happily hums and goes on its merry way, cleaning your floor. Eventually, it finds your hallway and moves on to other parts of your house. Well, at least it works, you guess.

You shrug it off and decide to do something about the boxes looming over you, unaware of the unwelcome presence you just invited into your home.


	2. Episode 01: A shocking and surprising plot twist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk learns the hard way that nothing in life goes as expected.

**>Dirk: Discover shocking development **

After hours of piling and "unpiling" boxes, you finally manage to tidy up half of your living room. You pat yourself on the back before admiring your work (and ignoring the still lingering mess on the ground).

Well, you know what? You're a busy man and a little progress is better than none (don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise kids!) You can deal with this tomorrow and no amount of judging from hypothetical people is going to make you clean at 10 P.M. You declare it's official "Dirk deserves a well-fucking-earned break" hours. Put on your seatbelts, you're in for the best ride of your life- the one where you do nothing but scroll through social media and eat Earth C's version of cheetos until you pass out at two in the morning (maybe three if you're really dedicated and manage to catch something good on Grubflix).

You traverse a sea of cardboard, wires and possibly fragile objects, and plop down on what could be considered the worst, gaudiest and shittiest couch known to the world. However, witnesses say that somehow your ectobiological son's is worse. How it can be worse than an amalgamation of plush puppets is beyond anyone’s comprehension, but it is and it's something everyone who has seen it must live with.

The dead eyes of a decapitated cyan smuppet bear into your soul as you lay down. It might be the sleep deprivation, but you swear you can feel it nagging you to go to sleep and eat better. Well, you suppose you _ could _ take this weird muppet’s advice, seeing how it seems to seek for your well-being.

Therefore, you do the most sensible thing and smother it with a pillow, hiding it from your sight.

"Shut up," you mumble. You know it's not good for you, but you know what? You've been making progress in treating yourself better and it's not one bad night that's going to derail you.

...Or at least you hope so.

Sighing, you move to grab your phone from the coffee table. Time to spend the next four hours mindlessly perusing the hidden depths of Wikipedia for the third time this week. Or maybe you could finally watch the final episode of that one series. The final fight was supposedly spectacular, but you’re not sure if you’re up for it. After all, it was something the two of you enjoyed together and it has been only two weeks since-

You shake your head and sigh. There’s no use dwelling on the past. Besides, the purpose of moving out was to forget some things and you’d be damned it that’s not what’s about to go down. Some good ol’ memory wiping is in session, doctor’s orders. You hover your thumb over your browser's icon, ready to press it, when suddenly:

CRASH!

The sudden, hyper realistic sound of a pile of boxes crashing down startles you making you drop your phone on your lap. You quickly get up and motion to grab your sword, completely forgetting it was stashed somewhere (you cuss Kanaya under your breath, for convincing you to put it in a box with other weapons, for easier organisation).

"It's fine," you mutter to yourself. You could probably take down the intruder with your fists. Besides, you are in the Consort Kingdom. It’s more likely to be another reckless, fanatic Nakodile looking for an autograph than some burglar trying to pick a fight with a god.

Or maybe… Maybe you just didn't make a secure pile and the boxes crashed down thanks to gravity. That sounds much more plausible. You don’t know why you didn’t think of that first but, to be fair, you’ve been uncharacteristically on edge lately. Like a vase, right on the edge of a table, right in the visual range of the family’s cat, who’s been waiting for the perfect moment to bring it down and watch as it shatters in a million shards, a billion splinters.

… Wow. That was the worst metaphor ever. You decide to pretend that never came out of your mind.

Avoiding the clothes and cutlery on the floor, you march over to the offending cardboard. Four boxes are still standing, but other seven are unceremoniously scattered around them, most of their contents spilled.

_ Guess that’ll teach me to use duct tape next time _, you think as you crouch down to grab a box. However, an eighth one falls, stopping you in your tracks. A noise suspiciously similar to thumping comes from behind the three remaining ones, almost like something was trying to bring them down.

Your suspicions are confirmed when another box falls and nearly crushes your hand.

“What?”

At the sound of your voice, the thumping ceases for a moment but soon continues. Not wanting to be almost hit again, you walk towards the back of the pile, expecting something like an animal that somehow made its way inside your apartment. However, what you find hitting the boxes in a rhythmically motion is completely unexpected. 

The roomba only stops for a moment to acknowledge your presence, before humming happily and continuing to headbutt the boxes. You stare in disbelief as the top one falls, spilling books at your feet.

"Ok, that's it."

You grab the culprit, switch it off and place it in a corner of the room. There. No more incidents. Or rather, accidents, you correct yourself, because there's no way the roomba would have done that on purpose. You almost feel bad for being so harsh with it, poor thing just wanted to do its job.

Problem solved, you glance around the room. Well, you guess you should clean that mess, unless you want to end up with a fork sticking out of your foot. There goes your well deserved break.

If you didn't know better (and if the roomba was sentient) you would have assumed that was its way of telling you to get your ass off the couch and start cleaning. Oh, the ironies.

Groaning, you start assembling the dropped items and putting them in their rightful places. As soon as you finish, you deem it too late for another break and decide to give up and go to bed, unaware of the red glowing coming from a robot that, by all means, should not be working.

[Theme song]

\---___---___---

The phone ringing is what wakes you up. You mindlessly reach for your bedside table, unwilling to open your eyes, and after seven failed attempts you resign yourself to your fate and sit up to grab your phone. Still dazed from sleep, you manage to make out Rose's name on the screen and the answer button. Yawning, you press it and bring the phone to your ear, greeting Rose with a butchered hello.

“I’m assuming that was a failed attempt at a greeting, in which case, good morning to you too,” she says.

You hum in response and go back to burying yourself under your covers. On the bedside table, the alarm clock reads 10:36, which makes you groan. Why did Rose call you so damn early? Does she have no sense of sensibility to these things? Does she take some kind of disturbing and sadistic pride in waking her family at these ungodly hours, as some kind of subtle game of one-upmanship over who has their life better well put? We get it Rose, you’re happily married and wake up at reasonable hours, while the rest of us wither in the darkness of our apartments, escaping from the throes of self-care. What’s next? Buying the best Halloween candy, so the neighbours and their kids will love you? Organising a gardening competition so you can show off how your topiaries are the best thanks to your amazing wife? Next thing you know-

Your thoughts are interrupted by Rose sighing. “I sure hope you are not planning some kind of elaborate metaphor to illustrate how distraught you are by being woken up at this hour. That is, after all, Dave’s job.”

“...No.”

“Right. I won’t take long, you can go back to your beauty sleep soon.”

You decide not to comment on that.

“Just wanted to remind you of John’s upcoming birthday party. You remember it, correct?”

Of course, you tell her. How could anyone forget about it when Jade, Roxy and Dave have been talking about it non-stop the last two weeks? The only times the surprise party wasn’t mentioned was when John was present. You were lucky Roxy hadn’t mentioned it when they visited you yesterday. 

“Hmm, that’s good. Roxy would be devastated if someone missed the party they put so much work into.”

“Yes, I know that. Are we done with the questions?”

“No, not quite yet. There is something else I wanted to ask about.”

Called it. You doubted Rose had called you to discuss something so superficial and leave without trying to analyse your subconscious. That’s just how almost all your conversations go (sometimes you wonder if she has a file on you and all the bullshit that comes out of your mouth).

“Don’t be rude, Dirk. I was just going to ask how you’re doing by yourself.” 

Oh. That’s… Not the question you were expecting. You thank her for asking and say you’ve been alright. Not that you’ve been here for a long time anyways, so you haven’t had time to take everything in. But you’re doing fine, exceptional even.

“Ah, I see,” she doesn’t sound very convinced, but doesn’t press the matter. Instead, she reminds you to buy John’s gift, bids you goodbye and ends the call. For a brief moment, you stare absentmindedly at your phone’s screen before deciding to get out of bed. Maybe you should take Rose’s advice and go buy a gift. It’d save you time for next week and you could even get some parts for that project you’d been thinking about lately. It was a sudden idea and you didn’t even have a clear design of the thing (everytime you thought about it your mind seemed to get fuzzy, like you were trying to remember something) but it could very well be considered your most ambitious project yet.

Well, as long as you figured out what it was (and how you somehow knew what pieces it needed, even if you didn’t know what they were for). 

The prospect of doing something productive lifts your spirits a little, as you begin to get dressed. After throwing on a hoodie and a pair of jeans, you move on to the most important part of anyone’s outfit, the socks. However, as soon as you reach for the drawer, you notice something strange. Instead of facing a neatly-organised, closed drawer, you encounter a single yellow sock hanging from a empty, open drawer.

“What?” you mumble to yourself. You’re pretty sure you put all of your socks there last night, how did they dissapear? Surely, someone couldn’t have moved them or stolen them. You would have noticed. Besides, what kind of weirdo steals only socks?

You start searching around your room, growing even more exasperated by the second, but can’t find anything. How are you going to leave with only one sock? You’d be uncomfortable with every step you took! 

Wait, scratch that. Who even cares about that stuff when your socks have mysteriously vanished? As much as you’d like to have a full pair, you’re more curious about what happened. Even after looking through your bedroom a second time, you found nothing.

“What the actual heck is going on?”

You search your room a third time before giving up. The mystery could be solved after you’ve eaten breakfast and fully cleared your head from sleep. Maybe that’s making you miss something. Maybe your socks are still in one of the boxes and you just can’t remember. Whatever it is, you’re sure there’s a logical explanation to what just happened and that you will find it.

And find it you do, when you trip over something in the doorway. As your face meets the floor, pressing your shades into it uncomfortably, something behind you robotically hums in what could be perceived as delight (but definitely isn’t). A robotic hum that sounds very familiar.

Ignoring the pain, you get up quickly enough to see your roomba slurping one of your socks like it was a spaghetti strand and dashing down the hallway with a speed no roomba should be able to have. It takes you a few moments to process what just happened and go after it. However, just like your socks, you can’t seem to find it.

You groan, bringing a hand to your face. This was _ not _ a good way to start the day. How did it even manage to turn itself on and steal your socks? Do roombas know how to climb surfaces? Are there any other hidden abilities you should be concerned about? Or is this some sort of possessed roomba Roxy found in a shady market and decided to gift you? If you get rid of it, is it going to somehow keep finding its way back into your apartment? 

Ok, maybe you’re exaggerating. You probably just need to fully wake up, you’re not making any sense, not even to yourself. Besides, you already had plans for today and some possibly possessed vacuum cleaner is not going to ruin it. Whatever weird thing is going on can probably be solved with Roxy later, once you find out where they got the damned thing.

After eating breakfast, you grab your keys and head outside the door. At least now you can’t be bothered by _ that _ thing, you think, but as you close the door, you swear the sound of someone chuckling can be heard throughout the apartment. 

You decide to ignore that and fly towards the closest mall. Normally you wouldn’t venture out into those, preferring to order stuff online, but the pieces you needed for your project weren’t available for shipping, which was a load of crap in your opinion. At least you could find something for John there.

Speaking of which, what should you get him anyway? The two of you weren’t exactly the closest in your friend group and all your gifts for him seemed to fail, either because he had that thing already or someone had given him the same present. Not that he seemed to mind, “it’s the thought that counts” according to him, but you still felt bad for not getting him some cool gift. Would it be too cliche if you made him a robot? That was kind of your niche, after all, but what would the guy even use it for? Watching bad movies? Pranks? Whatever very interesting hobbies you’re pretty sure he might have, even if you have no idea what those are?

You grimace at that. Wow, you know _ nothing _ about John huh? You can’t just narrow his character down to bad movies and pranks, that’s like saying his personality is being Jane and Jake’s child, which technically he is but that's beside the point! If you find the time or motivation for it, you should probably spend more time with him and get to know him better, to avoid any more awkward situations once his birthday comes around. Even though you’re one hundred percent sure it’d be weird if you suddenly asked him to spend time with you.

While you keep discussing in your head how unfortunate you not knowing John very well is, you fail to notice you’ve flown past your destination. Luckily for you, your train of thought is interrupted by your phone vibrating, making you aware of where you are. You stop to fish your phone out of your pocket and are greeted with a pesterchum notification.

\-- turntechGodhead  [TG] began pestering  timaeusTestified [TT] at 11:08 AM -- 

TG: hey  
TT: Hey.  
TG: so  
TG: hows the new apartment  
TT: As good as new, seeing as how I’ve only moved in yesterday. Looks pretty cool if you ask me.  
TG: yeah im sure it looks good if you ignore the stuff you probably havent cleared up yet  
TT: Those are baseless accusations. My humble abode is pristine.  
TG: not what roxy said but go off i guess  
TT: Did you want something or are we going to keep discussing my home’s cleanliness?  
TG: yeah  
TG: katkat wants to know if you still want to do movie night tonight  
TG: you probably dont seeing how youre so busy with not cleaning your apartment but he was pretty insistent on me asking even when i told him “dude might just want to relax in his new home sweet home let’s not inconvenience him with socialisation invitations”  
TG: but he didnt let it go so here we are  
TT: “Katkat”?  
TG: oh shoot didnt see that you know how autocorrect is  
TT: Right. “Autocorrect”.  
TG: anyway are you in or nah  
TG: its chill if you dont wanna  
TT: No, it’s fine, it’s like boredom central over here, some change of pace might be nice. We can even have movie night here if you guys want.  
TG: ill ask karkat  
TG: he hasnt said anything but i know hes dying to see your place and criticise your decor choices  
TT: Wonderful.  
TG: hey its your fault you have that shitty couch  
TG: but im sure your apartments coolness rating has been upped by that sweet figurine i gave you  
TT: Yeah, sure, of course.  
TG: i gotta go now ill come back with karkats answer later

\-- turntechGodhead  [TG] ceased pestering  timaeusTestified [TT] at 11:15 AM --

You pocket your phone once again and head towards the mall. Five minutes later, you finally arrive and enter.

A sea of bright and colorful consorts and stores greets your eyes, or rather, almost blinds them. Color coordination is not the forte of the inhabitants of this area of the kingdom, resulting in disastrous combinations. Luckily, this mall seemed to be void of the neon lights some of them like to decorate their houses with. If Christmas was a thing for them, you’re pretty sure nobody would be able to see anything whilst walking down a street littered with suburban houses filled to the brim with flashing lights and tacky accessories. Man, these guys need better taste. <strike> Not that you’re one to talk. </strike>

Ignoring the headache those colors are inducing, you walk towards the shop that has the parts you need for the project. You can’t wait to get out of this place, so the sooner you get this done, the better.

However, a day that started as bad turns to awful when you find the shop closed, with no closing notice or anything to give you an indication of when or if it’s going to open up.

“Great, just great,” you mumble to yourself. The one day you decided to come is the day it closes. Just your luck. If you didn’t know better, you’d think someone was pulling your leg.

Luckily, after a quick internet search, you are able to find other places that sell the pieces you need and that are open. You get ready to leave, but not before briefly contemplating searching for a gift for John. In the end, you dismiss that idea. You can deal with that later, there’s still one week left after all.

With that you finally leave the mall and fly off. 

\---___---___---

As soon as you step into your apartment, you close the door behind you with annoyance and throw yourself down on the couch.

“Gee Dirk, what are you so annoyed about”, some people might ask. Well, you see, the thing is:

None. Of. The. Freaking. Stores. Were. Open.

How that even happens, you’re not sure, but somehow it’s a thing. Across the nation, all the stores you needed to visit somehow forgot to open up while all the others were still working as usual, and no matter who or where you asked, nobody had any idea of what was going on. It’s like someone decided today was Let’s all inconvenience Dirk Strider day.

You groan and roll over. At least this day can’t get worse.

Or can it?

From the corner of your eye, you spot a small, round device, softly glowing red on your hallway. Right. You forgot that was still a thing you have to deal with. Getting up, you march towards the roomba, ready to throw yourself at it and dismantle it when your phone vibrates, distracting you and giving the roomba an escape opportunity. 

_ It’s fine, _ you think as you turn on your phone. _ I’ll get you, no matter where you run off to. I’m the one in charge here, you little fucker. _

The screen greets you with a single text from Dave, telling you Karkat agreed and that they’d meet you at the usual time. You internally panic. With all the anger you were feeling, you had completely forgotten about those two and now only had half an hour to clear all the boxes still in the living room and get some snacks. 

As quickly as you can, you try to complete these tasks, grabbing a handful of boxes and throwing them into your room. Everything seems to go smoothly and you start to think you’ll manage to finish, but your hubris and the six boxes you’re carrying make you blind to the danger that comes from a rapidly accelerating roomba zooming towards your feet and making you trip. Your face meets the floor the second time today. 

“That’s it!”

Seething with rage, you get up and march towards the roomba, who starts running around the apartment in hopes of avoiding you. Eventually, after almost destroying your home with your chasing, you manage to grab it. “I’m going to get rid of you and that is final.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

The sound of your own voice coming from the roomba is enough to make you drop it in shock, giving it a chance to run away. However, you don’t have enough time to process the situation and go after it because next thing you know, your doorbell ringing and the sound of Karkat’s voice can be heard outside your door.

This is not going to end well.

[Credits]

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
